Lord of Fire,Lady of Ice(110)

She smiled as sweetly as she could, save the circumstance, and made her way from the head table. Her heart thudded and she felt as if she floated on a sea of trembling emotion. Now she thought of it, she was feeling quite ill again.





Chapter Nineteen




Brant’s eyes narrowed as he watched Della walk away. His expression gave away none of his thoughts, but inside he worried. She looked pale and she was overly thin. The slenderness worried him. She’d always been a slight maiden, but now her gown hung on her frame a bit too freely. Mayhap the stress of late was starting to wear on her as it did him. Mayhap she was ready to call a truce.

King Guthrum took a sip of his mead as he watched Brant in silence. They’d known each other for a long time. Setting down his goblet, the king waited until Della reached the stairwell before clearing his throat to get Brant’s attention.

“Delightful lady.” King Guthrum interrupted his thoughts, slipping into their shared native tongue. “I wager you are not so upset about this match as you once were.”

Brant grunted and said nothing. He didn’t have to. Shooting a bemused glance at the king, he then directed his attention back to the empty stairwell entrance.

“Methought so,” King Guthrum chuckled. “So where were you, really? The poor dear cannot lie to save her life, but the way she tried to cover for you was charming.”

“Who said she lied?” Brant sniffed, not giving anything away with his expression. Picking up his goblet, he took a deep drink. Then, leaning over, he grabbed a slice of fresh bread to keep his hands busy as he spoke. “It is as she said. I was mending a wall that mysteriously fell in the night hours.”

“From the stables?” The king laughed heartily.

Brant lightly waved his hand, not answering.

“And may I see this wall?” The king shot him an innocent smile. Brant didn’t trust the mischief in it.

“The wall would not interest you. It is only a wall, much like any other. I doubt even I could find it again.”

The king shook his head, amused. “Fine. I will allow you your secret, Lord Blackwell, but only this once.”

Tearing off a crust of bread, Brant bit into it and slowly chewed. The morsel sat heavily on his empty stomach, but he forced himself to take another bite.

“Where is Gunther?” The king thoughtfully traced the royal crest emblazoned on his ring. “I have yet to see him about.”

“I sent him to Blackwell Manor. I’m having a great section of it burned down.” Brant grimaced at the reminder of his lice-infested home. “Damned place is infested with lice, rats, lazy servants.”

“All hard to be rid of,” the king said. “I noticed your wife keeps a very clean keep. Mayhap I should move in here with you, for this keep puts all five of my properties to shame.”

“Nay, it is too much to expect a man to bow every day before he breaks his fast.” Brant leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. His own smell was beginning to offend even him. “Besides, I should hate to see what happens if the king also decided to take a liking to my lovely wife. I am not a man who shares my things well.”

“Fair enough,” the king laughed, not at all offended by the deliberate words. “Lady Blackwell is indeed beautiful, but I respect you too much to cuckold you.”

“So, what is so urgent that you must ride all the way here? And do not tell me you came to see me content in my marriage. I should think you have more to consider than my happiness with a Saxon bride,” Brant stated. “I already signed your document.”

“Alfred wants a peace treaty,” King Guthrum stated unceremoniously, not at all stunned by Brant’s swift perception of his visit. “Methinks he just wants to get me alone so he can have my head and take my lands.”

“Nay, not even the impertinent King Alfred would be so bold. He knows we would revolt against his rule. The Vikings would never live under his tyranny.” Brant knew well what the king was going to ask of him.

“Yet you are so willing to live under mine.” Guthrum shook his head in amusement. “Nay, Alfred has the impudence of youth in him. He may try to be overbold. You are well respected by him, Brant the Flame. I want you at my side for fear that we may need to fight our way back.”

The king was not asking, but demanding, and it was Brant’s duty to obey. He didn’t want to leave Della, or Strathfeld. He was tired of wars, tired of campaigning, of bloodshed. “When do we leave?”

“Good man.” Guthrum nodded. “Send word to Gunther, he can stay here in your stead and protect what I have given you. And, although I will miss his sword, I fear he will not get here before the dawn.”